


come hell or high water

by xylomylo



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, F/F, the lucifer au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2020-09-23 11:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylomylo/pseuds/xylomylo
Summary: “i’m im nayeon,” suit lady smiles. “i’m a civilian consultant, and i - “ there’s a very, very dramatic pause as suit lady looks across all of them - “will be assisting your team, starting today. it’s so lovely to be here!” her enthusiasm is off the charts, and dahyun feels her own smile stretch across her face.





	1. she's sweet but a little psycho

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based on lucifer!! the tv show that has wrecked the better part of my life a few months ago,,also am trying my hand at another multi chap thing it's realllllly terrifying let me know what u think also pls dont turn out to be 100k :')

  
  


the sea is blue. the sun is shining gold, through her ray-bans - it’s bright. beautiful. there’s a martini in her hand, with a tiny little red umbrella that screams useless, but also cute, and nayeon sighs. puts it down. turns to kiss the girl on her left, and pulls the girl on her right a little closer. if only she could track down the person who invented bikinis, and grant them a no-return favour. what a genius.

everything is perfect. everyone is right where they have to be. there is sand under her toes, and left girl tastes like peaches. but then there’s a drop in her stomach when her tongue wraps around something dangerously sharp, and nayeon’s eyes snap open. recoils, and finds herself face to face with a demon, with daggers for teeth, and swings herself over the chair so quickly -

“ - wake up! wake the  _ fuck  _ up - ”

there’s a thud. and then another, and then nayeon hears it: the whizzing. it sounds like it’s coming right for her, and her eyes snap open (again?) -

she catches the dagger by the blade. right before it goes through her eyeball. tosses it aside. hisses as the cut on her palm heals within seconds, and wipes the blood away. nothing could possibly piss her off more than sana’s daggers. forged in the bowels of hell, a celestial blade of sorts -

“is this how you’re going to wake me up every morning?” nayeon snaps. sits up, because her beach dream had already started to fade into the beginnings of awakeness. “i had such a good dream, you know.”

“oh yeah?” sana rolls her eyes. “there are actual _cops _downstairs, you know. because someone actually died here last night.” sticks her other dagger back into her belt, and starts the countdown. because nothing means more to nayeon than her reputation here on stupid earth, in that nightclub she owns. the nightclub she’d actually named ‘club’. how dumb is that?

three, two,  _ one -  _

“what the  _ fuck, _ ” nayeon jumps up, eyes flaring just the slightest bit red. “murder? in my club?” feels the anger rise up and shrouds her consciousness. slips on her robe. pads to the living room. “whoever did this is clearly out to get me, sana.” she stops by the counter. pours herself a whiskey, and downs it within seconds. revels in the burn that works better than caffeine of any kind, and checks out her own reflection in the penthouse elevator.

bed hair? check. hot bed hair? check. her eyes are back to the midnight black they’ve always been, aside from the occasional slip-ups, and she’s severely under-dressed, but who cares: this is her home, for fuck’s sake. im nayeon definitely does not tolerate trespassers. or murder of any kind. in her club.

“you coming?” she turns to sana. cocks her head, and runs her fingers in her hair in a last ditch attempt to make herself look presentable, while sana enters begrudgingly. then thinks about the dead body, and the possible repercussions on herself. humans. so, so fragile. but the girls are so hot, and the alcohol is excellent - too bad dear old dad never really made anything else perfect. other than the silver city, perhaps. but even that could be debatable.

she cracks her neck. readies herself for some punishment, even if it was the very thing she’d tried to get away from.

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


“hello?” nayeon calls out, once the elevator door opens. she narrows her eyes at the sight - it’s crowded, just like any other night. but instead of the well-dressed patrons she usually gets, she’s met with with boring uniformed officers touching every single inch possible with their oily pudgy hands, and she feels her eyebrow twitch. 

then her eyes find the body bag on the ground, and -

“oh,” she whispers. to herself, mostly. feels herself being pulled forwards, and squats down. unzips the bag. opens it to reveal the poor victim, with his empty eyes staring right back at her. nayeon focuses. tries to feel for the soul that’d probably just left not long ago. wants to know the entire story, that led to him getting stabbed in the abdomen. multiple times, if the wounds were anything to go by.

“okay, so it’s a dead body,” sana shrugs. flips her blonde hair over her shoulders. “is this a sign? that your little vacation is over?” then kicks the body just so it moves out of reach of the both of them, and crosses her arms.

nayeon exhales. slow and steady. reminds herself to be patient, because sana’s too hot headed for her own good, and can never be still. she’s always itching for something to actually do; the idea of a ‘vacation’ never really sat well with her. 

“now, now,” she tuts. “why are you always in a hurry to leave? look at the alcohol!” she gestures to the bar. “tell me you won’t miss it, and we’ll go. right now.” stares up at a defiant sana, and watches the blonde girl wrestle with her agony. it’s a little too easy, how she’s able to read sana like a book, given the eternity they’ve spent together, and the eternity they will only continue to - sana’s loyalty is something she’s always thankful for. it’s also how she knows that sana will never defy her, no matter how much the other girl hates whatever they do. 

sana’s stomping off in another two seconds, and nayeon ignores her in favour of the body. moves to pull it nearer, so she could probably get a feel of the remnants of its previous occupant, and make sure that the murderer gets an appropriate punishment -

“hey!” there’s a shout. probably from some rowdy cop, but she looks up anyway: it’s a woman, pointing right at her. nayeon thinks she looks a little angry, because her eyebrows are all scrunched up. angry woman’s shoulder length hair also shakes with every violent step she takes, and it’s kind of distracting -

“who are you?” she huffs. “this is a crime scene - you can’t be here.” points towards the exit, and also the police cordons that nayeon never noticed before, and wow. is she being kicked out of her very own club?

“who am i?” she scoffs. “i own this place.” stands up to level herself with angry woman, and feels the familiar anger surging in her veins. because no one,  _ no one  _ questions who she is. “i haven’t even kicked all of you out for trespassing, and you’re asking who  _ i  _ am?”

angry woman doesn’t back down. but nayeon takes it as a victory when she sees the other woman’s eyes drop down for a fraction of a second, before finding her own eyes again with a renewed vigour. “i don’t care if you’re the owner of this club.” she throws her hands up. “you can’t touch the body because it’s  _ evidence _ ! what if you tampered it?”

nayeon clenches her jaw. “tampered? well, excuse me for being curious about a murder that happened in my night club!” she half-yells, because the logical part of her brain doesn’t want her to be thrown in a cell, or go anywhere near anything cop related -

“um, jihyo,” a voice cuts in. it’s a shorter, pony-tailed girl with a camera in hand, and wow. do people specialise in photography for the dead? how morbid. then muffles the snort that escapes her mouth with the back of her hand, when she sees the cross hanging on pony-tail girl’s neck. the other girl gestures to the door, and angry woman - no, jihyo, now - sighs. nods. turns right back to her, and says the words nayeon’d always dreaded, but knew that someday she would hear -

“ma’am, you’re gonna have to come back to the station with us.” 

  
  
  


/

mina sighs. pinches the bridge of her nose. she’s already on her third drink of the day, and it’s barely afternoon: she doesn’t feel anything. this was clearly a mistake. maybe she shouldn’t have eaten, for maximum effect. but one of her patients had questioned her ethics as a psychologist and actually went ahead to report her to the board. now she’s scheduled for a review, and her fucking license is at stake. excellent.

the thought of losing her practice makes her a little nauseous. literally her sweat and blood, right after college. also her entire life right now, because she’s dedicated so much to it that mina’s sure she doesn’t know what to do without it anymore. so she downs the rest of the drink. then watches as some random blondie sidles up to the bar and orders ten shots. on a weekday afternoon. it doesn’t help that she’s wearing black leather, and sort of looks like she has a lot of anger. like,  _ a lot _ .

she sighs, again. gives in to her stupid occupational hazard. mina watches, because she’s already drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and starts profiling blonde girl. makes a guess about her life. reads her body language. remembers the smile she flashes to the bartender when he serves her order -

“are you going to continue staring at me?” blonde girl asks. downs the first shot as easily as day, and mina feels her own cheeks burning. but it only lasts for a good few seconds or so, because no. she’s not going to be ashamed. her life’s work could be shut down by tomorrow, and there isn’t really anything else to lose at this point. but her passion for the art of counselling comes through in the form of thick-skinned confidence, and so she carries on. 

“i’m sorry,” mina grins sheepishly. “it’s just that you look like you have a lot on your mind.” raises her own drink in the air, and waits for blonde girl to get with the program. because clinking glasses signifies like, a million things - one of them being the desire to want to tell all your deepest darkest secrets to the other. 

blonde girl laughs. “i’m sana.” she tucks her hair behind her ear. then sighs, really loudly - it’s full of defeat, and mina is still taking notes, even though sana’s eyes are now one shade of anger less. 

“mina,” she introduces herself. steals one of sana’s shots, and finishes it before the other girl can react. “so,what’s bothering you?” she doesn’t beat around the bush. her lips are strangely looser than before. “only if you want to share, of course.”

sana gives her a look. it’s guarded, but not for long, because mina likes to think she comes across as approachable. friendly. it helps with the job, of course - so people tell her things easily. a trusted confidante. less effort, more progress. and true to her thoughts, sana sighs. downs another shot, and starts talking. 

mina listens. gives appropriate reactions whenever needed, and checks the boxes of her imaginary list in her head: the runaway kid. lost, and lonely. soaks up the emotions, and formulates the best non-therapist response she has:

“i’m sorry you feel that way,” mina says. pats sana’s shoulder. “it’s not easy to feel like you belong, especially when you’re somewhere far from home.” she smiles. feels the need to overshare kick in, and doesn’t even bother repressing it. “i mean, i never really feel like i belong, despite growing up here. los angeles is full of life, but when you see past the glamour, it’s just… lonely.”

she watches as sana’s eyes fixate on her. like she’s found something in mina that’s worth staying for. that she can relate to. the classic textbook reaction. there’s a twinkle, and then a smile that actually reaches her eyes as the blonde girl orders them more drinks -

this is it. the passion that’s in her blood. the one thing that gives life meaning - that she can never give up on. it’s a belated reminder, but mina is thankful anyway; her priorities are set, once again. she’s not going down without a fight, and even if the entire universe conspires against her - then she’ll just start all over again.

because it’s worth it. 

  
  
  


/

the station is cold. nayeon doesn’t want to think about how much colder it would be if they didn’t let her put on some actual clothes. because earth is all about living in the moment, and what more could dear old dad bless humans with other than climate change? cold, and hot, and then cold again? at least back in hell, it was constantly hot. searing and stifling, optimised for torture. perfect.

she sighs. twiddles her thumbs. they’re waiting to speak to the superintendent, because ‘park’ jihyo over here (according to the label on her desk) supposedly wasn’t ‘managing’ her officers well enough, and nayeon had actually felt bad. the other girl had taken her statement, which mainly consisted of her trying to find out the details of the murder in her club, and recounting last night’s events where one, she didn’t remember seeing the victim, and two, had some mindblowing sex. to which jihyo had absolutely  _ no  _ reaction to - what exactly was this woman made up of?

ah. her mojo. she’d never used it out of a favour context, but hey - life is full of unexpected surprises, because she’s pretty sure dear old dad’s enjoying every single minute of her sitting in a police station, and what’s another rule broken at this point?

“so,” nayeon isn’t letting this go anytime soon. “tell me, jihyo - what is it you truly desire?” looks into the detective’s eyes. they’re a chocolate brown, something she never noticed in her anger-fueled haze earlier at the club. searches them for something, anything to pull a little closer to the surface -

“like, right now?” jihyo asks. as nonchalantly as ever. nayeon nods slowly, and waits. sometimes it takes a bit longer for strong-willed people, because they aren’t as suggestible as the others, and it’s such a pain. but they all give in eventually, because that’s the only gift from her father she truly appreciates - 

“what is that even supposed to mean?” jihyo rolls her eyes. the sharpness in her voice comes out of nowhere. or maybe, it was already there, and nayeon was too focused on pulling out her secrets to actually notice it. “are you a mentalist? am i supposed to be scared?” she folds her arms. “look. i’m running on coffee, and would really, really appreciate it if you could help me get this -” she gestures to the space between them, “- closed. so i can go back home and actually get some sleep before solving the murder in your damn club.”

nayeon blinks. takes a closer look at jihyo. it’s true - there’s exhaustion written all over her face, in the form of eyebags she’d somehow missed. because her eyes are still the same: bright and round. but the twinkle in them has dulled, and wow. the guilt hits hard. but also -

“did my father send you?” she asks. scrutinises jihyo from head to toe. because no human has ever, ever resisted it. her mojo. it doesn’t make any sense. their powers are celestial, and aren’t limited by location, or time, so what else could it be?

jihyo stands up. shakes her head, and moves to walk away, and this is when nayeon is reminded of the detective’s plight. she makes to apologise, but then the door to the superintendent’s room opens and they’re called in. she flashes jihyo her million dollar smile - the one that gets all the girls (and guys), but jihyo barely bats an eyelash and walks past her into the room, and okay. maybe she should have kept the questions for later. 

the meeting is short. it takes an interesting turn, because her mojo’d actually worked on this old man and hey. some humans are so, so easy it’s no fun. he’d wanted fame: the second most popular favour everyone asks for, and it’s always the same. 

“hire me as a civilian consultant,” nayeon grins. ignores jihyo’s look of incredulity, and presses on. “so i can assist detective park here on her cases, and you can get the media to do a piece on me. or, become the first station to achieve record breaking solves with the help of a civilian consultant.”

“but -” jihyo starts. it’s probably something unfavourable, obviously, given the frown on her forehead that’s should be permanent by now. nayeon grabs her wrist. digs her thumb into it, and smiles at the grunt of pain jihyo lets out, albeit softly, before saying a few more words. convinces him that she’d entered the crime scene all on her own and that it wasn’t jihyo’s fault -

“detective park is _ brilliant _ , sir,” nayeon leans forward. “one of your youngest, i believe? and with the highest solve rate. i saw how she worked the crime scene and i’m sure i’ll learn a lot from her. it’ll be a great experience, sharing this with the public.” she tilts her head. “take it as good pr, sir.” 

he drums his fingers against the table. nayeon’s eyebrow twitches - it’s one of her many pet peeves. but keeps it in check. remains professional. her connection to a higher status has to be established here, to help keep true evil at bay, and it’s...important. plus, an excuse to find out more about this human who’s resistant to her powers? who also happens to be really easy on the eyes? she stares at the superintendent. holds his gaze, and ramps up the intensity -

“yeah, why not,” he laughs. turns to jihyo. “you’ll be in charge of her - you can start on the murder at the club.” then turns back to nayeon, and smiles so sweetly she wants to laugh. hook, line, sinker - and there’s that. 

they’re dismissed. nayeon exits the room with a newfound meaning to life on earth. but jihyo’s walking behind, just a little slower, and nayeon’s never one for beating around the bush. so she stops. turns back, and readies herself to apologise -

“thank you,” jihyo says. “for saying all that. it means a lot.” bows just the slightest bit, and smiles. the light in her eyes are back to their usual brightness - it’s not assertive. it’s… endearing. like a child. nayeon feels the station around them fade into nothing, because the only thing worth looking at is jihyo, and her honest gratitude, and her infectious happiness that has nayeon already smiling like an idiot.

“i only spoke the truth,” she shrugs. returns the bow somewhat. there’s a silence that she doesn’t really know how to deal with, because just two hours ago all they did was scream at each other, and how was she supposed to be civilised and proper? but then nayeon’s phone rings, and she knows the afternoon is over. 

she doesn’t want to leave. someone calls for jihyo, and the detective’s already being pulled into a meeting - she waves goodbye, and says something nayeon thinks is probably  _ see you tomorrow! _ over the hustle of the station. she disappears into a discussion room. nayeon feels empty. but also a tingle somewhere in her chest that makes her want to scream. in a good way. and also fly. reach for the stars.

  
  
  
  


it doesn’t subside, even after she eventually leaves the station. even after too many drinks, and too many girls - it’s still all she can think about. because no one has made her feel guilty in a long, long time, for something that she’s done. 

no one. (also, jihyo’s really pretty, and im nayeon’s number one weakness? a pretty girl.)

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


dahyun loves her job. it’s exciting. it’s all the grit and tenacity required for a field officer, but mostly behind the scenes, and the science. being a forensic scientist meant putting together a story from a dead body. using science to explain a possible hypothesis that could very, very possibly solve the case? it’s cooler than handling guns and weaponry, okay. it’s science, baby.

“good morning!” she chirps. fist bumps a grumpy chaeyoung, who’s sitting at her desk. “haven’t had your coffee?”

chaeyoung sighs. it makes her look older than she actually is, and dahyun finally notices the mess of papers on their shared desk. “no. we just got two more cases today, and - ugh. jihyo has her hands full with the club murder, so i have no idea how she wants to do this.” she rubs her eyes tiredly, and dahyun has this weird urge to pat chaeyoung’s head. it doesn’t help that the other girl’s short cropped hair is sticking out weirdly at the back, because chaeyoung  _ never  _ combs her hair. maybe the secret to having such soft baby hair is to not comb it.

then there’s a loud crash on the other side of the station, and dahyun’s shaken back to reality. looks at the commotion -

“what is the weird lady from yesterday doing here?” she squints. because the only person who wears a suit in the station would be the superintendent, but he’s an old man and he’s gotten lazy and no one really cares. but a lady, in a suit, hanging around like she owns the place - does she think she’s a maestro or something? there’s a broken mug on the floor, and jihyo has her hands on her hips, the classic  _ are you kidding me  _ face they’ve all grown used to, and the suit lady is still smiling like nothing happened and talking animatedly.

“not sure. she hasn’t left jihyo’s side all morning,” chaeyoung laughs, and it’s like the morning is brighter somehow. the air is cooler. fresher. “jihyo’s about to have an aneurysm.” 

dahyun slaps her shoulder playfully. they settle into the (late) morning. with chaeyoung doing the paperwork and dahyun running lab tests - they weren’t the number one team for nothing. of course, they couldn’t have done it without jihyo’s superior leadership; the girl knows how to manage them right to their very core.

soon enough, an exasperated jihyo calls for a meeting, and dahyun shares a knowing look with chaeyoung, right after they do their customary shoulder bump on the way to the meeting room - it’s tea time. suit lady appears, right beside jihyo, and has her hands clasped in front of her like an over eager student on her first day of class -

“so,” jihyo begins, after another long sigh. “we have - “

“hi!” the suit lady cuts in. looks to jihyo, and then to the two of them, and back to jihyo. then frowns like she’d realised something. “oh sorry, you were saying?” 

jihyo clears her throat. “we have a… new member. of sorts. this is - “

“i’m im nayeon,” suit lady smiles. “i’m a civilian consultant, and i - “ there’s a very, very dramatic pause as suit lady looks across all of them - “will be assisting your team, starting today. it’s so lovely to be here!” her enthusiasm is off the charts, and dahyun feels her own smile stretch across her face. 

“hi, i’m dahyun.” she introduces herself. shakes nayeon’s hand. does the standard pleasantries essential to maintain a professional working relationship, and okay. maybe she’d wanted to shake nayeon’s hand because damn, she’s hot. the suit hugs all her curves just right, and maybe she’d wanted to find out if the skin on her hand would be as smooth as her face. at least, how it  _ looked  _ smooth - not that she’s going to touch it, of course.

but then she’s pulled into a hug, and it’s a whole whirlwind of greetings and orientation stuff. she doesn’t miss the way chaeyoung’s jaw drops when nayeon laughs, big and charming, and lowkey relates. reminds herself to not be like chaeyoung, and clamps her jaw shut. because nayeon is the last wave of the high tide that washes away painstakingly built sandcastles, with grandeur that leaves no regret. sure, she’d even be the sand, as long as she’d  _ be  _ washed away by nayeon. 

jihyo clears her throat. nayeon lets go of chaeyoung. stands at attention, and dahyun pinches her thigh to keep focused, because jihyo starts the briefing proper. important details are shared - their new leads, what to work on, possible suspects - and dahyun writes them down. makes a note to run them by the database and search for any new findings. because now that the club owner is actually helping in the investigation, there’s obviously more pressure to solve it as soon as possible. plus the extra pressure from the superintendent - this im nayeon lady clearly has some sort of power over them all. 

then nayeon pulls out a flask from her suit pocket, and raises it up. 

“to a great team!” she cheers. looks at everyone else expectantly, and then blinks. swirls her flask. “vodka, anyone?”

the sigh that jihyo lets out makes her giggle, only because it’s kind of fun to see the other girl being a babysitter. she looks at chaeyoung over the table, and grins - this was going to be a hell of a ride.

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


nayeon wakes up with the sunrise in full view. it’s beautiful. a soft amber colouring the skyline. it’s one of the rare mornings she isn’t woken up by a dagger to the face, or by sana’s annoying antics, and she’s determined to take full advantage of it. soak up the cool morning breeze, and watch as the city comes to life.

los angeles. the one and only. the city of dreams. it’s what brought her here in the first place, because the souls in hell she’d met always spoke of it. like it’s the human version of the silver city, with riches and recognition everyone desires to have. she’s always been a little curious, and dropped by a couple of years ago when she’d followed jeongyeon on some mission she can’t even remember. but the nightlife, the people - it was addictive, and nayeon obviously swore to come back someday, sometime, to live right in the center of it all. 

and here she is. pouring herself a whiskey, in a penthouse right above the club she’d bought over the first night she’d decided to stay for good. picking up an apple, because that’s what people do. eat an apple a day to keep the doctor away. she tosses it up absentmindedly like she always does, just to see the shine of the waxed apple under the sun -

it stays in the air. doesn’t land in her palm, like she’d expected, and oh. bloody hell. there’s a gust of wind somewhere behind her, and she doesn’t need to look to know who’s there. 

“is trespassing the new in thing now?” nayeon rolls her eyes. turns around. jeongyeon’s silver hair is still the same eyesore it has always been, always glittering like she’s the chosen one or something. what an attention seeking bitch. 

“you wouldn’t pick up my calls, sister,” jeongyeon folds her wings. steps into the living room. “is this where you live?” 

nayeon snorts. “did you expect me to sleep on the streets?” eyes her sister. the standard silver city robe looks stupid on her, like it always did. even now, it’s a little longer than necessary, sweeping the floor with every step she takes as she looks around, and okay. maybe this would work better than that robot vacuum cleaner she’d bought a few weeks ago on amazon. so much for e-commerce.

jeongyeon sighs. steps right in front of her, and nayeon hates how she can’t seem to fight the reflex that makes her take a step back. “come back, nayeon. you can’t leave your throne just like that.” 

the anger stirs beneath her skin. it’s always there, but dormant - unless licked by a passing flame, be it intentional or not. nayeon feels it rising. the familiar rush in her blood. “i can’t?” she spits. “who are you to say what i can and cannot do?”

“you know father isn’t happy - “

“happy?” nayeon snaps incredulously. “i’m supposed to care about his happiness, when all he ever did for me was to condemn me to an eternity of torturing the worst souls?” she clenches her fists. feels her nails dig into her skin, and welcomes the sting. “i’m  _ done _ , jeongyeon. i’m not going back.” takes a long sip of the whiskey she’d poured earlier, and revels in the albeit momentary burn down her throat. 

the silence that follows is thick. suffocating at best, maybe, and nayeon doesn’t remember the last time jeongyeon was rendered speechless. but she has no time to appreciate the hardening of her sister’s eyes, because it disappears as quickly as it had appeared, and then they’re back to square one. just that jeongyeon looks more collected than nayeon’d expected - this is probably the first amicable meeting they’ve had since… forever. thankfully there isn’t a need to replace any furniture. or worse, her entire alcohol collection.

“i’ll be back,” jeongyeon says. there are no emotions - just a look: the one that nayeon never knew how to read, because it’s no secret that god’s favourite soldier always had the advantage. going on top secret missions, being blessed with more useful powers - it’s no surprise jeongyeon’s been taught a world class poker face. nayeon doesn’t break the stare. watches as her sister’s silver wings unfurl, magnificent and glorious (and a little longer than the ones she used to have), and rolls her eyes as jeongyeon jumps off the balcony. her back itches.

the apple drops. hits the back of her head, and nayeon swears it’s jeongyeon’s doing. the anger surges, again: her eyes are probably red now, and her palms are singeing, with tiny embers on the tip of her fingers, as though they could burn away her human skin. 

she stares. thinks about what it would be like to have all of it burnt off. her in nothing but her devil skin. her most powerful form, as dear father had always said - ugly and monstrous. keeping the demons and ghouls alike from disobeying, and maintaining her rule. it’s been a long time since she’d let it come out, but hey. jeongyeon isn’t jeongyeon if she didn’t make sure to remind nayeon of who she truly is. pathetic. maybe there are things she can never run away from. 

her phone rings. it’s jihyo, and nayeon reaches across the table for it instinctively. the detective’s voice is enough to make her forget about everything. it’s a work call - something about a new lead, and nayeon lets the possibility of the heady addiction of a chase take over her entire being. 

the flames on her hands disappear. she doesn’t notice. 

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


the first thing sana notices once the lift doors to the penthouse open: the air is different.

she sniffs. takes a deep breath, and feels the air in her lungs sit a little weirdly. it’s a little too… clean for los angeles. too pure. she feels lighter and perkier, and wow. that has definitely never happened before. 

the second thing is that nayeon’s not in. okay. there’s nothing unusual about this, because the other girl’s always at the station with the detective, doing her ‘side job’. it’s a good thing, because a busy nayeon means that there won’t be unnecessary check-ins, and sana’s always saying yes to less nayeon. for now, at least. because earth is so boring and she kind of misses her fellow demons back at home. not that they were that close, though. 

but a few steps into the living room and she notices the third thing: a feather. it’s enough for a red alert, because for one - she was the one who’d chopped off nayeon’s wings, and two? they were white. this was a silver feather, and of the entire silver city, the only one with silver wings -

her eyes widen with the only possible answer: jeongyeon. 

she pockets the feather. unsheathes one of her daggers and lets the familiar weight rest in her palm. it calms the tide in her. soothes the anxiety that comes with the thought of nayeon going batshit crazy if she’d found out, because if everything goes south - at least she’d have something to fight with. to claw her way out. to protect nayeon, at all costs. she slips it back in her belt, and makes sure her leather jacket covers it: after five years on earth you’d think she’d learnt a thing or two. 

time is of the essence - she hops on her bike and speeds through the city. cuts through traffic easily and bursts through the main doors of the station. jihyo is nowhere to be seen, and this sends sana into a frenzy of sorts, because where the fuck would nayeon be if not by jihyo’s side?

then she sees a sort of familiar face staring right back at her. the ponytail girl. the one who was at the club. there’s another girl, right beside her - short haired, looking like she’d need a baby-sitter - and sana feels like she’s moving on auto-pilot. they’re still unmoving, and sana has no time to care, or think.

“where’s nayeon?” she asks. dumb and dumber are still staring at her with their mouths open, and sana feels her non existent patience waning. her handy dagger finds its way to her hands, and she flexes her grip just once to get her message across. 

dumb and dumber both turn pale. the short haired one starts to say something, but none of it makes it to her ears, because the background noise is too loud, and she won’t speak the fuck up -

“i said,” sana repeats, “where is nayeon?” she slams the dagger on the table for effect. if she weren’t in a hurry, she would probably have laughed at the way the both of them flinched. ponytail girl gulps, and points somewhere to the left -

“sana!” nayeon appears, maroon suit jacket flapping in the wind. her hair falls over her shoulders neatly in waves that don’t seem to move with time - it’s probably the hair cream she’d stolen from jeongyeon a long time ago. “leave them alone.”

sana growls lowly under her breath. jihyo’s here too, of course. right beside nayeon, because they’re the newest siamese twins in town. her hand is on her gun at her waist, and sana wants to laugh. humans are so, so cute: their regard for their gunpowder and firearms is higher than that of themselves. 

“sana.” nayeon softens. lays a hand on her shoulder, and sana finally breathes. hears her pulse in her ears dull, and stands up straight. the dagger is gone - she turns around. pulls nayeon into a hug. watches from the corner of her eye how jihyo visibly relaxes, and then drops the bomb. 

“jeongyeon’s here,” she whispers. feels nayeon stiffen up for the smallest fraction of a second, before relaxing, again. jihyo’s waving to dumb and dumber to come with her as she leaves, and now that she’s thinking clearly once again, sana’s thankful for the detective. at least she can read into urgent situations. there’s one last look at nayeon before she leaves, and sana’s definitely leaving it to nayeon to explain it to them. sometime soon.

nayeon lets go. they’re alone now, at a vacated desk, and sana is confused. “she came to find me this morning, while you were out.” the other girl shrugs. “i told her i’m not going back.”

sana blinks. “you - what?” 

“there’s no point lying,” nayeon continues. “it’s about time dear old dad ordered her to come find me, anyway.”

oh. it’s the end of their runaway stint. but the joy that comes with the thought of finally returning home doesn’t come, and sana realises very belatedly that her heart, too, is heavy. she doesn’t understand, because it’s literally everything that she’s told mina, and everything that she’s been wishing for, and what the hell. 

“so,” she begins. a little hesitant. “are we going back home?” 

nayeon smiles. it’s hollow, and sana hates how it makes her own heart squeeze in retaliation. “i know you want to - ”

“no,” she cuts in. “not anymore.” she laughs. “i can’t give up the alcohol, remember?” leans in just enough to pull out nayeon’s flask from her suit pocket, and holds it cheekily in the air before taking a long swig. there’s a pause, before nayeon smiles again. this time, it’s the one that sana’s used to seeing - the one with her eye crinkles. the one that puts the stars to shame, and sana knows she’s doing something right. for her liege. 

“okay,” nayeon nods. “i guess we can stay. find a way to stop jeongyeon from wanting to go back. but if worst comes to worst, i can always fight her.” her eyes flash the briefest of red, and sana knows she means it. she always does, in that beautiful cryptic way. “i’m not going back, sana. i can’t do it anymore.”

there is a finality in the other girl’s words that makes sana’s heart settle. she finds nayeon’s hand. grips it hard, and doesn’t let go. 

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


paperwork is a bore. a chore. never in nayeon’s entire life did she think that she would be doing stupid paperwork - listening to the souls in hell tell stories of a typical desk job was enough torture on her part, but experiencing it? a whole other pain. but jihyo does whatever she wants, and nayeon can only comply. 

she sighs. can already hear jihyo’s voice as she explains again and again, about  _ protocol  _ and  _ we can’t just do whatever we want, that makes us no different from the criminals themselves  _ and okay. follow the system, because it’s what governs the humans, despite its flaws. dahyun had analysed some fingerprints on the dead guy’s jacket and they’d found several addresses - some which didn’t really check out and of course they’re going to need search warrants. which takes time.

nayeon taps her feet. feels the urge to stand up and do something -

“let’s go.” jihyo appears out of nowhere. it takes a lot for nayeon to not jump in her seat, because it’s embarrassing. but the detective’s grabbing her keys and already halfway to the door when nayeon finally gets it together to start moving. hi-fives herself at the opportunity to meet a possible suspect, or whatever it is that doesn’t require her ass to be planted on a swivel chair, and welcomes the adrenaline that fills her veins.

the drive there is fast, only because nayeon insists on driving and feeling the city wind in her face. jihyo screams her head off for the first five minutes, yelling about safety and whatnot, but eventually gets used to it - she almost crashes, but only because the afternoon sun makes the detective’s tan glimmer, and jihyo actually starts smiling. smiles that make nayeon want to give her all of her money. it reminds her of the fact that jihyo’s immune to her mojo, and okay. that’s a possible logical explanation to her irrational thoughts.

“okay, pull over here,” jihyo says. her serious face is back on, and nayeon slams the brakes. watches jihyo check gear, before gesturing to her to follow. the neighbourhood is dodgy - she glances around just to make sure there isn’t anyone following them. the detective feels it too, in the way her shoulders are squared stiff, and nayeon _ knows _ she has to protect jihyo. watch her back. be faster than the unknown.

they knock on the door. a man opens it. a friend of the deceased, supposedly. shifty eyes, fidgety - he has all the signs of guilt when jihyo questions him easily, and nayeon smells the fear in the air. it thickens, with the prospects of him planning an escape - the desperation peaks, as his eyes flicker to the kitchen every now and then. it probably leads to the backdoor. how predictable. 

“can i get some water?” nayeon interrupts. sees the way jihyo frowns minutely, as if trying to figure out what she’s up to. “all this talking is making my throat dry. do you have tea?” she quips. “or even better, vodka.” 

the man’s clearly caught off guard. nods hesitantly, before the look in his eyes sharpen just enough for nayeon to know that she’s on the right track. she turns to jihyo, who shakes her head, and proceeds to wave him away. he scurries to the kitchen - nayeon thinks he’d look better with a tail between his legs. 

“this guy has shit taste in decor,” she says. scowls at the faux paint lining the walls. now that her plan is in motion, there’s room for judgement, and nayeon lets herself process the disgust she feels. “who in their right mind would settle for faux paint? all it does is make the house look disgustingly cheap, and all over the place.” she huffs. “it’s twenty nineteen, for fuck’s sake.”

jihyo chuckles. “give them a lesson or two, then.” it’s a win, because the tension in her shoulders lessens, and the smile on her face is easy. it helps nayeon relax, too. focus on the actual catch; the trap has been set, and all that’s left to do is wait. because slow and steady wins the race.

nayeon counts the seconds in her head. jihyo’s looking around, because the one thing that she’s learnt they have in common - not being able to sit still. for long. you’d think being a part of a bureaucracy would mean a natural obedience to waiting, but the detective catches her by surprise more and more every day - maybe it’s just her losing her people reading skills. 

she inhales. the air is stale, and the stench of fear dilutes. he’s escaping. nayeon smirks in knowing. waits for jihyo’s back to face her while looking at some old photos, before she slips out effortlessly - the backdoor is unlocked. what kind of moron?

“going somewhere?” she crosses her arms. he blanches. drops his duffel, and pulls out a gun. nayeon rolls her eyes. 

“stay back!” the gun shakes in his hand. “or i’ll shoot - “

whatever’s left of her patience disappears. it’s a pity he didn’t get to finish his classic bravado getaway line, because nayeon walks right up to him and slaps the gun away. grabs him by the lapels of his shirt, and feels the fire in her veins. 

“tell me,” her eyes glow. “what is it you desire the most?” 

his eyes zone out. nayeon digs. searches for the lingering wants that, to no one’s surprise, aren’t buried that deeply. all he needs is a little more pull, and she  _ pulls - _

“i want jeremy dead again,” the man says, eyes suddenly alight with anger. “dead,” he repeats. “over and over.”

“jeremy?” nayeon asks. lets go of his mind, and tries to remember why it was such a familiar name -

oh. the dead guy. “you killed jeremy?” she raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “left his body in my damn nightclub, with a knife sticking out his stomach?” 

he laughs, maniacal and without remorse, after telling her the story of how their friendship soured - the fire in nayeon’s veins burns. her skin heats up, and she’s not surprised if her skin starts blistering again, because this guy is  _ sick  _ and nayeon knows. that whatever time he does in a prison cell isn’t going to change anything, because there is only good and evil. white and black. there is no in-between. 

she picks him up. throws him against the tree, and relishes in the scream he lets out. “you disgusting son of a bitch.” reaches into his worst nightmare, and brings it out. the whiteness in his face fuels her satisfaction, because he’s finally getting what he deserves. the screams, the pleas to stop - she eats it all up. “he was your friend, and you betrayed him!”

the fire races across her skin, because it’s personal now. people who make use of friendships, and end up betraying the other party? there’s a special place in hell just for them. she’d created it on a whim because it reminded her so much of the bitch who'd betrayed her just to get on father’s good side, and ruined her entire rebellion - there’s a special anger that’s always, always there. somewhere in her chest, under her skin, and today, she taps into it. 

he trips over his own feet, as she approaches. makes sure to show her other face. the charred one. burning just at the eyes, to give him something to remember. something for the lonely nights. 

“who - who are you?” he rasps, scrambling to get away. but of course, they’re at a dead end - the fence isn’t that tall, but this guy surely isn’t smart (or skilled) enough to jump over it. 

“who am i?” nayeon bends down, ever so slowly. “ me?” smiles the smile she learnt over the years - the one that struck the deepest fears into the chests of humans and demons alike - “i’m the devil, of course.”

she lets the words sink in -

“what’s going on?” there’s a slam from somewhere behind, and jihyo’s… well. here. pointing her gun at the guy, and looking very, very confused. because he won’t stop screaming, and nayeon hides her devil face as quickly as it appeared. her job is done. 

“ah, detective,” she grins. “nothing like a little good ol’ taunting to ruffle some feathers.” there’s suspicion in jihyo’s eyes, one that nayeon forces herself not to submit herself to. but she pushes on. “he has something to tell you.” 

the guy’s kneeling down, hands behind his back. confesses to the murder. tells his version of the story, everything that ties up with whatever leads they had, and jihyo handcuffs him easily. but he still avoids nayeon at all costs, and it’s really funny how he’s trying very hard not to pee his pants - the curious glint is still in jihyo’s eyes, and nayeon thinks there’s no point in lying. 

“i told him i was the devil,” she cracks her neck. sticks her hands into her pockets, and searches the detective’s face for something. anything. was she supposed to come clean right here, right now, in the ugliest living room she’s ever had the honour of being in? 

but then jihyo laughs. smacks her shoulder hard, and nayeon thinks the glint disappears. there’s something else now - something a little more… fond. shiny. it makes her forget, because jihyo starts commenting about the antique vases on the table that had no place being with the faux paint, and disses all the other furniture: nayeon’s jaw drops.

because jihyo has never looked hotter, and a woman who has good taste in interior design? sexy.

  
  
  


/

the sun sets. the horizon is a shade of orange that makes her miss home, and jeongyeon sighs. walks along the street. thinks about everything that she could have done differently. thinks about anything she could do to make nayeon see the light. how much she’s missed nayeon. how much she misses nayeon, and how she’s supposed to answer to their father. 

it gets quieter - it’s enough for her to feel the lingering eyes on her back. to hear the footsteps she’d never thought she’d miss. the footsteps that followed her around the entire day. some things really don’t change; it’s a small comfort. but it gets her mind to actually stop thinking for once, and jeongyeon can’t help the quirk of her own lips at the idea that somehow pops into her mind.

she sidesteps the main road. turns into an alley at the corner, and waits. holds her breath. true enough, the footsteps she’d memorized a long time ago start nearing, and crescendos with the erratic beating of her own heart - bingo.

jeongyeon steps out. pins her stalker to the wall on the other side - her blonde hair is still as eye-catching as ever, even more so under the rapidly darkening sky. it makes her stand out, but jeongyeon thinks that her personality alone is a shine no one can overshadow. 

“always so rough,” sana giggles, despite having an arm pressed against her adam’s apple. “you’re lucky i like it.” 

something familiar stirs in the pit of her stomach, but jeongyeon has the sense to push it down. rolls her eyes, and steps back. it’s been five years, but sana is still the same vibrant burst of colour that she can count on to catch her off guard, despite never really fitting in her own black and white world.

“why are you following me?” jeongyeon cocks her head. does her best to ignore the way sana’s looking at her through her eyelashes, and knows exactly how to make it stop. “did nayeon put you up to this?” 

the blonde girl scowls. “not everything i do is for nayeon, you know,” she huffs. “it’s nice to know that you still think i’m a spineless bitch.” her eyes cloud over, and jeongyeon regrets her words instantly. five years, and there are some things she can never get right, no matter how hard she tries.

there’s a distance between them, one that neither one wants to close. it sinks in, because the hurt is still there, and maybe this is a physical representation of why some things will never work. she’s grateful: it’s the perfect reminder for her to keep her duty, and jeongyeon clears her throat -

“what are you going to do?” sana’s voice is small. “stay and convince nayeon to go back? drag her back forcefully?” she looks at everywhere but jeongyeon. “your father will be mad if you go back without her.”

the night sky doesn’t have the answers. it’s black, dark, and carries a melancholy jeongyeon feels in her bones. but it’s different today - there’s an old pocket of nostalgia that just opened, and it’s rejuvenating. warms her core and gives her the strength to look uncertainty right in the eye. 

“i don’t know,” she ends up saying. smiles, because she’s tired. “you and i both know that nayeon would rather die than submit to father’s orders, especially those she doesn’t agree with.” between trying to follow orders and trying to make amends with an estranged sister of sorts - there is no room for mistakes of any kind, and she hates how it’s tearing her apart. inside. 

sana doesn’t push it. jeongyeon is thankful. lets herself fall back on the silence that surrounds them, and waits for it to drown out all the unspoken words ringing in her ears, before closing her eyes.

when she opens them again, sometime later - the dust has settled. sana’s long gone. there’s nothing but a lone feather, in the one shade of silver she’d never been able to shed, and jeongyeon doesn’t bother fighting the tears that start running down her face. 

  
  



	2. she's no good for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nayeon faux-gasps. “is this a date?” her eyes sharpen just a little, and maybe there’s something else hidden in the onyx darkness. it makes jihyo’s blood rush to her face when nayeon looks at her like that. 
> 
> “it’s a celebration,” she covers it with a shake of her head. some of her hair falls into her face, and there. a perfect cover. “you know i love alcohol as much as you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i know this fic still exists..and my unending wip folder just grows. how considerate.

“nayeon!” sana yells, glossy eyes radiating liquid joy. raises her arm. mina thinks she looks a little insane, and maybe if her eyes weren’t that wide all the time, she’d actually be a catch. but it’s clear that the other girl’s in her element, and she’s not going to be a judgemental bitch. “come,” sana waves. “this is mina, my new friend!”

she turns. looks to where sana’s looking at. the nayeon girl waves back, and maybe it’s the three drinks she’s had earlier, but nayeon’s suddenly all up in her face and smiling like she’s just found the stairway to heaven. her hair - maybe it’s because they’re sitting too near to the stage lights, but the way it doesn’t seem to move in sync with her body seems a little too good to be true -

“hi,” nayeon greets, midnight blue suit complimenting her eyes. “never thought i’d see the day when sana has a friend,” she laughs, and mina can’t help the giggle that escapes her own lips. it’s mystical. her eyes follow the other girl of their own accord. it’s like sana, but amplified a thousand times more, and wow.

“there’s always a first time for everything, right?” mina reaches for her drink. tries to shake herself out of the trance. stupid stage lights. there’s a white dot following her vision, and she gives thanks to her rational state of mind: because no amount of alcohol would make it go away. 

but it does. nayeon laughs. sana slaps her thigh, and honest to god, when sana’d texted her to stop by because  _ my friend owns a club!! we can get free drinks hehehhe  _ she’d expected a dingy, underground bar. not a state of the art, classy establishment in downtown los angeles, with a really hot club owner on her arm, and her blonde sidekick cracking jokes she won’t remember tomorrow.

they fall into good conversation, and she somehow manages to see through the veil - maybe the alcohol kicks in. hot damn. maybe the stage lights dim. but talking to nayeon makes her recall sana’s previous outburst. mina’s not stupid. nayeon’s obviously the person sana was talking about, but it’s also interesting because both of them are so in tune with each other it’s like watching some kind of hipster interpretive dance: weird, beautiful, but also unique. her brain falls back on its roots, and starts profiling nayeon immediately. a welcome back of sorts, for passing the totally unnecessary board review, and this is the pat on the back she deserves.

she feasts. ticks the checkboxes. anger issues, narcissistic tendencies - just right up her alley. then dives into it headfirst, because she’s already invested in this shit. wants to know more. the root cause. to find out what makes nayeon tick -

“you’re a doctor?” nayeon’s eyebrows disappear into her hair. fixes mina with a look of surprise that increases with an intensity that makes mina even more curious. “like, what kind?”

“a cool one,” sana says. “someone who can read your mind - ” 

“a mind doctor?” the black haired girl shoves sana’s hair in her face. then leans in, on her elbows. her eyes turn even darker, if possible, and mina feels her own consciousness floating. “so, you listen to people tell you their deepest, darkest secrets? desires?”

the answer slips out of mina’s mouth too easily. but it’s the truth, so the weird curling at the bottom of her stomach isn’t really justified. “sometimes,” she nods. “i help them process their emotions, mostly.” 

“don’t even say it - ” sana begins, only to be cut off by nayeon’s manic laughter that’s complete with a cute array of bunny teeth.

“should i also be charging a fee?” nayeon snorts. it’s sarcastic, obviously. something that mina’d already predicted from her first glance, but she thinks there’s a little something else in there. pride, maybe. the desire not to lose out. or simply just nayeon trying to figure her out. either way, it already puts nayeon way above the textbook patients usually shoved down her throat, because nayeon is  _ smart _ . trying to test the waters, to find out how exactly mina works, and then do her best to hide - the worst of the lot, but also the most rewarding kind, and mina’s competitive spirit awakens. 

she takes a deep breath. clears whatever’s left of the alcohol muddle in her brain to the best of her ability, and goes full-on clinical mode. 

“are you also a therapist?” mina asks. keeps it neutral. to which sana spits out her drink, and laughs loud enough to completely cover the one pop song booming from the speakers. the one they’re playing everywhere in town. her ears ring. but it’s a good sound nonetheless, because it makes nayeon laugh too, and maybe it’ll make the other girl lower her guard. 

“let’s just say we have similar… professions.” nayeon grins. “just that i collect payment in favours i usually save up for rainy days.” the twinkle in her eyes fans the flame of mina’s own competitiveness, and she looks to sana for clarification. because nayeon certainly isn’t a therapist, and mina is confused - sana only shrugs and laughs into her glass. 

mina clears her throat. takes it at face value, because it’s the best way to deal with people like nayeon. “okay, try me then.” she raises an eyebrow. lays the offer on the table.

“oh, honey,” nayeon tuts. mina feels the other girl’s eyes on her body, a torturous descent that she only rolls her eyes at because she thinks it gets easier to read nayeon with every passing second they’re together. but sana’s hyena laughter cuts through any semblance of patience she has left -

“i mean, read me, or something.” she shakes her head. “we can read each other, and see how different our approaches are.” bullshits her way into sealing the deal, and doesn’t look away from the strange lure in nayeon’s eyes this time. because if she stares hard - there’s a crack small enough to show a little waver mina thinks might be fear, and it’s all that she needs to consider this progress. 

but the other girl blinks, and it’s back to cocky nayeon, who nods. raises her shot glass as an invitation, and mina does, too - they clink on it. but then sana snatches the shot glasses out of their hands and downs them faster than anyone can blink, and grins at the both of them with the triumphant innocence of a child who’s eaten chocolate cake before dinner. 

this, mina can work with.

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


things settle. nayeon finds herself looking forward to waking up at ridiculous hours in the morning just to make it in time for their meetings; jihyo is as regularly scheduled as the sun, and it irks her to no end. conforming to day, of all things? she’s im nayeon, and she does  _ not  _ conform - but it seems like the humans do, and well, when in rome? do what the romans do.

she kicks her legs up on the table. dahyun doesn’t mind. but jihyo does, which makes every second count. at least until jihyo gets here, and does her no-nonsense stare that nayeon has no idea why she submits to. for the job, maybe. but it’s been some time since the club murder was done and dusted, and she can’t really bring herself to leave. working as a team had been exciting, and she’d actually felt important, contributing to a cause she believed in. upholding the white, and condemning the black. 

it’s different, doing it here. for everything that she stands for, nayeon would never have labelled herself a hypocrite. it’s… fun. there’s a distinct differentiation of powers for angels and humans, and it’s like she has to actually do her job here. it’s settled in her bones so subtly it’s lowkey terrifying, but also gives her a more solid reason to spit in jeongyeon’s face if she (or anyone else) tries to haul her ass back home. because the innocent have to be protected. 

like dahyun. a sweet, sweet girl whose positivity sometimes makes nayeon want to vomit. whose energy radiates like a beacon of light so bright she has to squint. who also happens to wear a cross on her neck religiously. its metallic sheen always stands out on her pale neck, and it’s always a topic up for discussion. 

“so,” nayeon crosses her arms. “you’re a believer?” waits for the other girl to look up from her microscope, and points to the cross. 

dahyun’s fingers close around it instinctively. “yeah,” she beams. nayeon thinks it calls for sunglasses. but she’d left hers back in her car because the red lenses didn’t really fit her overall aesthetic today, and okay. maybe she should keep a spare pair in her pocket or something.

“why?” her curiosity is sparked. it’s always a mystery how happy dahyun is all the time. like that time when the evidence they collected wasn’t sufficient to warrant an arrest. jihyo had been so mad, letting their main suspect go - and so was chaeyoung. but all dahyun did was nod in acknowledgement. patted chaeyoung on the back, and went right back to work with a spring in her step. like, what does that girl eat? maybe it’s the faith, then.

“i grew up with it, i guess,” dahyun shrugs. “believing that the big guy up there’s always watching over us, and making things happen.” she returns her attention to her samples, and nayeon scoffs.

“he sure does make things happen.” she doesn’t bother hiding the bite in her voice. “in ways you don’t want them to.” 

dahyun turns around. “see, that’s the thing,” she begins. her eyes light up. “faith is all about believing in a greater purpose. that sometimes things happen the way they do because they were meant to.”

“even if it condemns you to a life you never wanted to live?” nayeon raises an eyebrow. “even if it makes you the devil?” the anger that she’s grown used to lingers beneath like always, but this time it doesn’t stir. it’s surprising. maybe it’s dahyun’s faith and happiness infiltrating her system and shutting down her defaults -

“the devil?” dahyun laughs. her eyes crinkle. “i honestly think he doesn’t deserve his rep. i mean, what did he do that was so bad? rebel against his father?” she shuffles some papers. “he’s one of us, too. a typical teenage rebellion. did he really deserve the torture? and eternal damnation?” 

nayeon’s hand is on her chest. “wow,” she breathes. because dahyun’s probably the first human to say that, and validation from a human? she’d never thought it would mean so much. there’s something else under her skin now, something cotton and soft and only reinforces the certainty she has in staying on earth. because there are people who are actually accepting her for who she is, and not what she’s been casted into. “that’s new.” she fights the soft tremor in her voice. 

“i mean, i thought he did, when i was a kid.” dahyun continues. “because everything happens for a reason, right?” adjusts her microscope. “but maybe there are some reasons we will never understand.”

then dahyun smiles at her, and nayeon thinks maybe her sunglasses aren’t needed after all.

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


the mirror glitters. for a moment, tzuyu thinks her reflection falters, because there’s a shadow somewhere beside that doesn’t belong to her. but it disappears, along with whatever’s left of her self-control, and she  _ looks _ . 

curiosity kills the cat. but satisfaction brings it back in the way the mirror ripples. she says the magic words, in the quiet of the walkway. hopes that the holler of the wind doesn’t give her away. hopes that the shade of the apple trees is enough to hide her for the moment, and waits for the image to appear -

it’s nayeon, of course. her hair is longer now, but still neatly tousled, like the walking oxymoron she is. she’s laughing. smiling. there’s a blonde haired girl beside her, and they look really happy. they’re in a club of sorts, with the disco lights flashing on them every now and then, and wow. the pain that jolts through her entire being makes her drop to her knees.

she gasps. the image flickering across the mirror changes - it’s jeongyeon now. jeongyeon whose face is always deep in thought. jeongyeon who’s always too serious for her own good. jeongyeon who never really understood anything other than duty, and tzuyu clenches her fist. 

tragic is an understatement. the cracks in her soul have never healed, not since the rebellion, and she understands. understands the soft wrinkles lining jeongyeon’s eyes, because how do you get someone so headstrong to forgive you? be it a betrayal, or just an unfair bias. things that none of them are in control of, at the end of the day. 

she breathes. closes her eyes. feels the pain leave her, and okay. thinks about the girl who once promised her the world, and feels her wings unravel -

the mirror cracks. it’s loud enough to shock her into opening her eyes, and she stands up. hangs her head in defeat. the crack widens. spreads across the entire mirror in tiny webs of devastation, and shatters into dust that settles into the ground. her time is up, that she knows - and it’s always at this time when she questions her decision. thinks about a future that could have happened, if she’d had the balls to stand by nayeon through it all. the butterfly effect. the cursed gift she was blessed with, when she’d first opened her eyes in utopia. 

nayeon’s father had called her his foresight. the child he never had. to see things as they pan out, beautifully as such. to see the possibilities, and weigh all her options. she’d seen the rebellion coming from miles away, but to see nayeon’s soul being burnt into ashes? it’s worse than any possible damnation, and she didn’t even think twice before blowing the whistle, even if it meant being at the end of nayeon’s well justified anger, and her very own heartbreak. 

(at least she’d been rewarded with a small window.)

she stands up. brushes the dust off her robes. counts the number of days left to the next viewing, and turns. plucks one of the apples hanging low, and bites into it - lets the sweetness seep into the crevices of her heart, and hopes it’ll keep her going.

it’s the closest thing to comfort she has, at this point.

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


the house they’re at is huge. it has a marble stairwell, with a living room probably twice the size of their entire station - thank god for the other officers. they’re responsible for sweeping the entire house, while her team focuses on what’s really important: the dead body. 

jihyo flashes her badge. ducks under the official cordons, and makes a beeline for the body. today, it’s a young woman lying in a puddle of blood, and her lifeless eyes tell a painful story.

“what do we have?” she puts on her gloves. bends down to get a better look at the woman, and waits for the brief.

“jennifer marqueen, twenty-seven year old,” dahyun snaps a photo. “there’s a dent at the back of her skull - we’re looking for a blunt murder weapon.” she grimaces. “the grossest kind of murder. also super unclassy.”

jihyo turns to dahyun. “unclassy? then what qualifies as a ‘classy’ murder?” 

“um,” the other girl puts down her camera. looks at her like she’s a five year old who can’t tell left from right, and jihyo does  _ not  _ appreciate it. “something that doesn’t involve leaving the dead body for the cops - ” 

“i’m done with the neighbours,” chaeyoung cuts in. straight to business, as always. “no one saw anything suspicious, other than the one guy who said that our dear friend here - ” she points to the dead body - “had a guest of sorts. there was a guy who entered, somewhere around five in the evening.” 

dahyun makes a face. “oof. netflix and chill?” she wiggles her eyebrows. then rolls her eyes when no one laughs. “it’s the last page she’d accessed on her computer!” 

“and how was i supposed to know that?” chaeyoung doesn’t back down. jihyo chooses this moment to exit the conversation - it’s the banter she’s grown used to listening to at the station. the one that she has no part in, more often than not, and chuckles softly to herself. it makes her feel younger, listening to petty squabbles, and watching dahyun and chaeyoung’s dynamic - it definitely makes them worth staying for. makes her cherish her job even more, and hold it closer to her heart. 

she gives the house another once-over. walks towards the shelf, just a small distance away from the living room. it’s full of awards, trophies - because miss jennifer was an overachiever who participated in all sorts of sports competitions. badminton, squash, table tennis: you name it, she had it. the shelf is packed, save for one empty spot that looks a little out of place, and jihyo narrows her eyes. moves to call nayeon over and ask for her opinion -

where the hell is nayeon? 

“where’s nayeon?” she walks back to the living room. dahyun jumps, as though caught talking about something a little too private, and jihyo ignores the way chaeyoung’s face falls. “anyway. have you seen the award shelf? It looks like something is missing.”

“haven’t seen her all morning,” chaeyoung grumbles. but dahyun’s widening her eyes at something behind her, and jihyo turns around -

“looking for something?” nayeon waves. there’s a trophy in her hand that glitters in the sun, and jihyo has to put in effort to stop her eyebrows from shooting off her face.

she yanks the other girl over. nayeon is frowning, but still mostly clueless, and jihyo really doesn’t understand how things happen sometimes. how nayeon does it. “where the hell were you?” she says. “and where did you get that?” 

“how’d you know i like it rough?” nayeon smirks. then schools her face into something acceptable when there was no reaction, before shrugging off jihyo’s grip on her arm. “ugh, fine. i was turning the corner here and saw a weirdo hiding in the bushes. so i talked to him and he gave me this.” she gestures to the trophy on hand. true enough - it had jennifer’s name on it, and okay. her gut is probably right.

dahyun takes it. examines it closely, and compares it to the wound on the dead body. “oh boy,” she whistles. “it’s a fit, but i can only confirm it after running tests back at the lab.” her eyes brighten. chaeyoung grins, and jihyo?

jihyo stares dumbly at nayeon. this isn’t the first time. because somehow or other, im nayeon, civilian consultant, manages to find critical information and evidence essential to solving cases. in the weirdest of ways. like a stroll in a park. and most of it involves her actually talking to the suspects themselves. it’s like she’s so good at reading people and making them tell her their secrets.

“what happened to him?” she starts to prompt -

“oh will you relax,” nayeon waves her off. “they’re questioning him right now. i’m not stupid enough to let him get away, detective.”

jihyo snorts. of course.

“not bad at all,” she nods. calls for a debrief immediately. sends everyone back to the station save for nayeon, and waits for dahyun and chaeyoung to pack up before going up to nayeon again. 

“you free on friday?” she’s not sure what exactly possesses her. then again, nayeon’s proven her worth to the team over and over, despite not following protocol sometimes, but hey. at the rate they’re going? jihyo’s pretty sure she can afford to close an eye. or two. “i think this calls for a celebration.” 

nayeon faux-gasps. “is this a date?” her eyes sharpen just a little, and maybe there’s something else hidden in the onyx darkness. it makes jihyo’s blood rush to her face when nayeon looks at her like that. 

“it’s a celebration,” she covers it with a shake of her head. some of her hair falls into her face, and there. a perfect cover. “you know i love alcohol as much as you do.” 

nayeon blinks. doesn’t look away, because she’s never one for backing down. but the sharpness in her eyes mellows, and it takes a little bit of the air in jihyo’s lungs away with it. because nayeon’s _ pretty _ , duh. and also a good colleague. a friend, maybe. they’ve never really hung out after work hours, because it’s just case after case that leaves not much room for breathing, but jihyo thinks they deserve it. at least tonight.

“okay, detective.” the other girl nods - and jihyo really doesn’t understand why her heart skips a beat.

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


“so,” mina begins. clears her throat, because nayeon hasn’t said a word since they supposedly started five minutes ago. she’s here for their long-awaited session of sorts; the other girl’s weird defensive posture is throwing her off, and okay. she’s already in work mode, trying to pick up on the other girl’s body language, the twinkle in her eyes (is it permanent?), and well. there’s a limit to where that can go -

“so,” nayeon echoes. crosses her legs the other way. they’ve been staring at each other long enough for mina to start flipping through her notebook absentmindedly, dog-earing random pages just for something to do, while her mind tries to figure out the situation they’re in. the air is different from the time they met at nayeon’s club, and mina knows it’s not just because of her humidifier.

she sighs. looks up at nayeon again, whose lips are pursed. her fire red suit is a stark contrast against mina’s mostly white office, and no doubt it’s an accurate metaphor -

“well?” nayeon folds her arms. “aren’t you going to start your ‘hypnosis’ mojo or something?” 

mina blinks. feels the knots in her stomach unravel as she laughs, tension seeping out just like that. “okay,” she adjusts her glasses. sits a little straighter. “tell me about yourself, then.” 

nayeon obliges way too easily. starts talking with humour mina immediately recognises as a defense mechanism, and reminds herself of why she’d even agreed to this in the first place: the mutual agreement, and the interest. there’s also a nervousness (albeit minute) coming from nayeon, and mina knows it has nothing to do with her reluctance to be here. keeps in mind her sworn obligation to anyone who sits on the patient couch, and takes notes.

she sips her water. listens intently. nayeon’s story is surprisingly detailed, for the somewhat stereotypical textbook case she is. she talks about her family, mostly, in weird metaphors mina has to wreck her brain to understand. they’re mostly biblical, but still. it is as detailed as it gets, for a person as guarded as nayeon, but mina silently applauds her open-mindedness. 

her guesses were right after all - nayeon talks about her daddy issues. abandonment of sorts. being forced to do things she didn’t want to. the anger is obvious, now that mina knows the source. she doesn’t miss the way the other girl’s mouth hardens every time she says the word ‘father’, and mina thinks it’s good progress for now.

“okay,” she interrupts. “anything else? other than your family of god and his angels?”

something flashes across nayeon’s eyes. it’s quick and brief but mina catches it, because she’s sharp and damn good at what she does -

“well,” nayeon starts. wrings her hands. “i recently started being a civilian consultant, and i’m working with this detective.” there’s a small smile, and mina doesn’t need to look to know that this isn’t a metaphor. this is real.

“and?” she prompts. tries prying a little more. there’s nothing like juicy gossip to keep her going, and mina is genuinely curious. there are so many layers to nayeon, as of today, and this occupational hazard of hers refuses to back down until she does. 

nayeon’s nervousness increases tenfold. her gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “we’re going out to celebrate a win in one of our cases, and well. i - “ she pauses. “i don’t want her to hate me. i don’t want her to see my ugly side.”

the room goes quiet. the hard set of nayeon’s jaw curves into some kind of velvet blur that is very much like vulnerability, and it’s_ really _rare for people with a tendency to hide to throw something this raw out in the open on the first session. this detective in question obviously means a lot to nayeon, and okay. this is excellent. she can work with this -

“do you… have any advice?” nayeon looks at her. inquisitive. meek, even. and its enough for the work part of her brain to shut down - this is nayeon, coming to her as a friend. a confidante, and the shock of it all compels mina to comply. falls on her morals, and snaps out of her analytical mode.

she smiles. “just be yourself, nayeon.” commits to the sincerity in her voice. “that’s all you need to do.”

the air shifts, again, and mina has no idea how she knows this. she blinks, and her vision is a little misty. nayeon’s eyes are overflowing with gratitude, this she knows. mina wants to give her a hug. tell her that everything’s going to be okay, because no one deserves to feel unworthy. the mist thickens, and digs into her eyes and it stings - 

she rubs her eyes. looks up. nayeon’s face has a red tinge to it, and if she squints it actually looks charred. burnt? but then the pain intensifies and forces her eyes shut. mina blinks repeatedly, and just when she thinks of excusing herself to the bathroom to wash her eyes - it stops. everything is fine and dandy, and nayeon is back to looking like her usual self, with more confidence in her shoulders. 

“thank you, mina,” the other girl stands up. flicks her hair over her shoulder. says something about having to be somewhere else, and mina lets her be. watches her leave in a whirlwind of mini panic, because nayeon is her friend, and nayeon deserves an escape, after baring a part of her soul. 

but then there’s something itching under her skin. something that triggers her flight instincts. she can’t help but think of the mist, and wonder if the charring was an illusion. the train of thought ends up going nowhere, because mina buries it under the carpet, and starts working on her other cases - it’s probably just her allergies. maybe she should get a new humidifier.

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


the apartment is small, for a larger than life jeongyeon. sana opens the window easily. slips in like it’s her own, and does her own tour. she’d followed jeongyeon here, and given how easy it was to find out where god’s favourite angel is currently living on earth, jeongyeon clearly hadn’t bothered to cover up her tracks.

it’s cold and minimalistic, with steel appliances - very fitting, she thinks. straight to the point, with none of that fluff nonsense nayeon seems to have an abundance of. jeongyeon is all about honour, duty, and justice - even if it eats at her beliefs (i.e. the empty beer cans sana steps over carefully). sana understands, but there is always an urge to leave everything behind, which is what nayeon did - and okay. maybe she’s starting to see the beauty of doing so. 

the bedroom is dark. jeongyeon sleeps with the curtains drawn, and she’s barely visible in the thick silk sheets covering the lone king-sized bed. it’s a huge throwback to the good old days when they were young and irresponsible, and it’s enough for sana’s lips to curve of their own accord. she thinks it’s a glimpse of what they could have been, and it sends her heart into weird palpitations. maybe it’s why she’s here after all - they’re still friends, right?

she sits on the bed. and just like old times, jeongyeon stirs immediately. reaches out for her without opening her eyes, and sana caves. dips her feet under the sheets, and feels jeongyeon’s warm thighs wrap around hers easily. her body remembers, and she does, too.

“good morning,” she whispers. moves nearer so she feels jeongyeon’s hot breath wash over her collarbones, and tries not to shiver. “breakfast?” 

the other girl’s arm wraps around her. jeongyeon pulls her impossibly closer, and nuzzles into her neck like she’d never left. sana melts. because some things never change, and she’s sick of the recurring nightmares. it’s like having a taste of the sweetest honey to ever exist - everything pales in comparison, and she’s reminded of the intensity her blood used to burn at, whenever jeongyeon’s fingers touched her. 

“mm,” the other girl mumbles. “you?” her eyes open, and sana feels her breath catch: jeongyeon’s eyes will always be her favourite shade of silver, and sana thinks she can rewind time. so she presses her face to jeongyeon’s forehead, and kisses it.

it breaks the spell of sorts. jeongyeon stiffens. pulls away, and the daydream shatters unevenly. but sana is unfazed - there is a courage like no other running through her veins. she finds jeongyeon’s hands under the sheets, still, and intertwines their fingers. because none of whatever happened is their fault, and maybe jeongyeon needs to stop blaming herself. 

jeongyeon doesn’t let go. the gaze in her eyes softens subtly, but sana knows her long enough to see it; she smirks. pushes the boundaries. presses her body into jeongyeon’s, and feels the other girl gasp. 

it’s the same as how she remembers it, with jeongyeon making the first move. tilts her head to catch sana’s lips, and sana closes her eyes. feels the tingling intensify tenfold with every lick of jeongyeon’s tongue, and presses her fingers into the curve of the other girl’s bare hip. five years of wandering earth and no human could ever kiss her like jeongyeon did - sana is convinced that it’s because of the purity that comes with being god’s favourite. but indulging in activities as sinful as this one - what an irony. maybe he’s just closing an eye, because he’s biased. 

there’s a hand between her legs, and sana locks them there. grinds hard, down, and feels pride at the way jeongyeon’s eyes darken. there is nothing but electric desire thrumming through her entire body, and the way it sizzles in the air makes her stomach clench. she gives in. pushes jeongyeon away just to kick off her leather pants, and straddles her without question.

it’s fast, because time is never on their side. they’ve always been all about the sneaking around and hoping no one catches them (other than nayeon, who wouldn’t stop barfing whenever she was in close proximity with the both of them after that). so sana lets herself go completely. moans jeongyeon’s name when the other girl flips them over, because there is no one here to hear it - nothing to taint jeongyeon’s reputation: the silver city’s best warrior, with a lowly demon in her bed. 

the heat in her belly explodes. white flashes behind her eyelids, and her chest stutters - jeongyeon doesn’t stop kissing her, with the same mouth that uttered the one decree that sentenced her to a fate in stone. it’s now an old scar that sana thinks she covers up well, but the way jeongyeon’s thumb traces over her hip in small circles tells her that she’s still sorry, and will always be sorry - but what’s the point in being sorry? 

(jeongyeon still reads her like an open book.)

she feels the other girl’s teeth on her collarbones. closes her eyes, because her hips are still boneless, but the memories are threatening to burst at the seams. some of it already slips through, pouring grey heartache over the coloured candy floss she’s living in. takes a shaky breath to keep it under wraps five feet down the hole in her chest -

“i’m sorry,” jeongyeon says, fingers coming to a standstill. they rest on her cheek now, and sana opens her eyes on instinct. she knows she is undeserving, and her throat closes up when she sees jeongyeon’s eyes brimming with all the unspoken words she should have said a long time ago. but her quest for vengeance died the day nayeon showed up in one of the torture rooms with nothing but her trademark devilish smile, and asked sana to follow her on a short trip. a ‘short’ trip that turned out to be five years and counting.

(jeongyeon will always read her like an open book.)

there is nothing for her in hell, other than those she’d left behind. but on earth, there’s jeongyeon, and a pocket of time she can call her own. their own. it’s enough for her to pull the other girl in for a bruising kiss, with teeth and tongue and the sour realisation that this is as happy as she will ever be. 

but jeongyeon makes it sweet, because of the way she crumbles easily. sana feels the coiling in her belly starting all over again, at the way jeongyeon cries out her name - her lowly demon name, said with the grace and holiness of an angel. and when she trails her fingers down over the softness of jeongyeon’s chest, flicking her nipple, the sharp inhale from the other girl tells sana that she’s not the only one who’s been so, so desperate for this. 

she indulges. forgets about the apology hanging in the air. it doesn’t matter, when she has jeongyeon right now. tangible, in her hands, under her, squirming, wet, and pilant. bites her way into the shivering of the other girl’s hips as she makes her come, beautiful and blissful. this is the only time she agrees with god, because this is definitely his most beautiful creation - sculpted with the finest precision and groomed with so much love to give. soft in all the right ways, and hard only by duty - even in her post-orgasm haze, jeongyeon reaches up to smooth sana’s hair - her heart aches for all the responsibility that was forced on the other girl, and longs for an eternity where jeongyeon could just be herself.

they lie there in silence, chest to chest, breathing in each other. something is different. something has changed, because jeongyeon doesn’t put up her walls. jeongyeon doesn’t push her away. jeongyeon smiles, and there isn’t any hint of the sadness they usually carry. like the ones she saw from that day by the sunset. jeongyeon leans forward and their foreheads touch, and -

“i love you.”

the cracks in sana’s heart don’t mend. it’s so battered and bruised by now she thinks it’s probably irreparable. but it fucking  _ lurches _ in her damn ribcage and she grins. says it back as she loses herself in outlining the details on jeongyeon’s face that are new, and adds them to her list. 

“i love you too.” 

neither of them move. at this point it’s already a mutual consensus, because this is definitely way better than whatever sana came here to talk about. (what was it again?) the future doesn’t hold any weight, not when jeongyeon is here. not when she’s been given a throwback to happiness, and now that she’s had a whole relapse - nothing else matters. their combined body heat lulls her to sleep, and sana feels her eyelids already dropping, with her thoughts slowing to jeongyeon, and nothing but jeongyeon, and her endless capacity to love.

things can wait, she supposes. 

  
  
  


/

  
  
  


“ah, detective?”

“nayeon? get here, quick.” jihyo’s voice is unusually serious, and nayeon isn’t sure if she hears a little panic over the phone. “i’ll text you the address. i think i’ve got a lead on that sex trafficking ring we were looking into. they’re at the pier - i think they’re escaping.”

nayeon stands up, chair screeching against the hardwood of her penthouse. “you what?” she almost drops the bottle of wine she was trying to wrap up. it’s friday, and she’d taken the liberty of bringing out her best wine for the not-date-date-celebration-thing with the detective. then there was the whole calming thing mina said about being herself - she’d placed one of her johann strauss collections on the gramophone, finished an entire bottle of whiskey, listed out conversation topics - and all she needs is a phone call from jihyo to make her forget everything.

“get. here.” there is a hint of desperation now, and nayeon is on high alert. “i’ll wait for you. i don’t want to call for back-up yet because i’m still not sure if they’re actually escaping, but we’ll see.” there’s a rustle, and then the line sounds like it’s breaking up, so nayeon yells a  _ i’m coming!!  _ and doesn’t actually laugh at the sexually charged potential it has like she normally would, because this is serious shit. the detective, in possible danger, all alone - she grits her teeth. jumps into her trusty corvette immediately, and speeds off to the coordinates set in her phone.

nayeon loves los angeles, but not its stupid traffic, and it’s times like these she regrets getting sana to chop off her wings. she would have been by jihyo in under a minute, and the weird tightness in her chest would probably be alleviated by now. her heart threatens to claw out of her chest, and for what? some detective that she’s somehow strangely protective of now? someone who, for some reason, her mojo doesn’t work on? 

she floors the accelerator. digs her nails into the wheel as she cuts across lanes without batting an eyelash. tries to remember the soothing tunes of waltz to calm her racing thoughts that circle around the detective. the possibility of nayeon being late. of jihyo being hurt. because of her. it’s enough to block out everything else, and her ears ring.

the pier comes into view. nayeon all but jumps out of her car. spots jihyo a small distance away, crouched behind the wall to its main entrance. she’s tiny, but her eyes are ablaze with a determination that can be seen even from where nayeon is - she’s reminded again of the detective’s passion for her job, and putting away criminals, upholding justice, and focuses. her chest loosens, knowing jihyo is safe, and there’s nothing to worry about. because the devil is here. to make them pay.

“you came alone?” nayeon looks at her incredulously when she’s finally near enough to try to understand the situation. all jihyo has is a gun, six spare rounds, and a taser - the typical field equipment, and the commotion she’d come to notice on one of the ships pointed to a way larger crowd - they’re definitely outnumbered, in human terms. but if worst comes to worst, she’s obviously going to pull out her emergency stops. just to protect the detective. at all costs.

“i had a hunch,” jihyo says casually. her voice is firmer now, with the same authority that it usually does when she does her case briefs in the station. “let’s wait for a couple more minutes and then if need be, go in. i think i saw our main suspect.”

“the one with the bald head?” nayeon tries to remember. they’re all starting to look the same, because evil people can never hide. it’s always the same sinister selfishness spelled out with no remorse, and it sickens her. 

jihyo nods. there are people in hats being ushered up the one ship in question, despite its lights being turned off - and then nayeon sees it. she squints, and the shock of it all socks her in the jaw: those aren’t people in hats - they’re  _ girls  _ with black bags tied over their heads, and okay. if jihyo’s not doing something -

the detective already has her phone out, fingers keying in the numbers like it’s second nature. she’s obviously come to the same conclusion as nayeon has, and mutters the address as quickly as possible, before hanging up and turning to nayeon -

“ten minutes. ten minutes, and we’re going in.” the words are final, and nayeon’s not going to argue, of course. jihyo’s mind is already set on it. her eyes don’t leave the ship, and it looks like it’s going to leave soon, because most of the people are already on board and there’s a man yelling at them to  _ hurry the fuck up _ and okay. ten minutes is surely not enough time for back-up to arrive, and nayeon squares her shoulders. knows that every bone in jihyo’s body is screaming at them to go in, because it’s against her nature to be a sitting duck - the only thing worse than letting a criminal escape, is to be there and do nothing about it. 

she checks her phone. the time ticks ever so slowly, and if nayeon is to be completely honest, a part of her suspects jeongyeon’s possible intervention - but it can’t be. if their last meeting taught her anything, it was that her sister’s one and only purpose of coming down to earth is to get her to go back, on father’s orders. why would she even be bothered with sabotaging her human job? she rolls her eyes. pushes all thoughts of her sister away, and focuses on the numbers counting down -

“you know what?” jihyo stands up. “let’s go. we can’t afford to wait anymore.” she draws her gun, and nayeon can’t say that she’s surprised. it’s much better than trying to ignore jihyo’s fidgeting with every second that passes, and it’s also not jihyo’s personality to be patient. especially when she has a suspect right in her grasp. so nayeon nods. rolls up her sleeves, and braces herself.

they walk, softly, approaching the ship. nayeon thinks briefly about just forcing jihyo into her car, and locking it from the outside, and arresting the bald man all on her own. but the detective would never, never stand for that -

“okay,” jihyo breathes. grips her gun with both hands. nayeon thinks she sees them tremble, but doesn’t comment on it. “it’s two of us, against like, way too many of them. but we’re going to get the bald guy, okay?” 

nayeon laughs. makes sure all her teeth show, because jihyo is always so, so positive. she sees the good in everything, even in this precarious situation they’re in. and something,  _ something  _ decides to possess her in the moment, because her lips are moving of their own accord, and she thinks it wouldn’t be that bad to let jihyo know that she’s going to be fine, because the fucking devil is here and mere human bullets aren’t enough to kill her.

because there’s no going back, after revealing her identity, then, and she just hopes the detective won’t have so many questions.

so she takes jihyo’s hands. looks right into her eyes, and gives her the best reassurance she can project. “we’re going to be fine. i’m invincible, you know. i’ll protect you.”

to which the detective scoffs, and nayeon’s not going to lie - the offense stabs her in the gut. what the fuck.

“what are you talking about?” jihyo rolls her eyes. “we’re going to be fine. just be on high alert, okay?” grabs her hands and pulls her towards the door - 

nayeon yanks her hands out. feels a spark of irritation, at a human not believing her words. her abilities. not believing her invincibility. her pride surges tenfold, and her lips move of their own accord. 

“shoot me, then.” she says. “trust me, it’ll be fine.” points to the calf of her leg. “you’ll see that it’s nothing, for my kind. i’ll be able to protect you, detective.” nayeon is sure it’ll work. because jihyo definitely trusts her, with the cases they work on and the time they spend together. it’s a camaraderie she knows she can count on, even with the doubt swirling in jihyo’s eyes. there’s a foolproof bravado she needs to prove to the detective, to gain her trust to actually do things her way, and nayeon is willing to go down on both knees to prove it.

“what?” the incredulity in jihyo’s eyes makes her laugh. of course jihyo thinks she’s kidding. because the average human’s belief in their gunpowder and technical weaponry is enough to make her giggle to herself for days. “don’t be stupid. you’re going to get hurt!” 

nayeon rolls her eyes. pulls out the trust card, explicitly. “i wouldn’t say that too easily, detective.” she folds her arms. “now, do you trust me? we don’t have much time. shoot me, so we can get this over and done with.”

jihyo fixes her with a weird look. nayeon hasn’t learnt how to put it into words, but it screams confusion and with time ticking, she pulls out her last emergency stop: 

“shoot. me.” she says, making sure it reaches jihyo’s soul. there is no more time, because nayeon spares a half-glance to the ship they’re about to enter, and she’s pretty sure they’re preparing to leave. there’s a general quieting of commotion, because people are probably more settled in their positions, and they have a time frame to meet. to escape -

oof. there’s a loud bang, and there it is. nayeon cracks a smile. jihyo’s gun smokes, and there is a bullet lodged in her calf. she grits her teeth through the pain, and waits for her muscles to heal and eject the bullet like it always does. 

“wow,” she says. “that hurt.” she’s not going to lie. bullet wounds hurt the most, because of their firepower and pressure, and nayeon frowns at the pain not letting up. she looks down at her calf, at her white pant leg (of all days, really?) that is bleeding. what a waste of holy blood, though. all the potions it could make. she laughs, but it actually hurts to do so, and okay. what the fuck is happening? 

jihyo drops her gun. “i’m so sorry,” she cradles nayeon. there is a very warm chest in her face, and nayeon has no capacity to care about her gunshot wound that is definitely  _ not  _ healing. 

nayeon still does not understand. but then there are sirens, loud as heck and filling her eardrums, and maybe that’s something to take her mind off the excruciating pain of the muscles of her calf not healing. there is the back-up jihyo called for, and they infiltrate the ship effortlessly, like they have been trained to do, and nayeon spends the rest of her sanity that night watching the bald man get put in handcuffs all while in jihyo’s tight embrace.

there is also the red and blue flashing of the ambulance, where she, for the very first time, gets ushered into on a stretcher, and okay. this is really embarrassing, because she’s an angel, for fuck’s sake, and she’s not supposed to be condemned to a mortal life. she’s destined for so much more, and okay. is this it? is this her punishment for rebelling all those years ago, and abandoning her throne?

the blood loss gets to her head. jihyo’s face blurs, as everything does, but somehow nayeon still feels her presence nearby. somewhere there. anchoring, and reassuring. steady - but still not enough, because she succumbs to the fuzzy subconscious when her mind can no longer focus on the hand holding onto hers fiercely. and nayeon completely submits to the blanket of sleep only when she realises that the detective is safe, here, beside her, with a whole team of officers to back her up.

because nothing else matters. not even her own sudden mortality.

//

  
  
  
  


jihyo hates hospitals. they’re too white and sterile and remind her a little too much of death. so when she opens the door to nayeon’s room after the doctor gives the okay to do so, her breath catches in a way that makes her want to punch a hole through the wall, because this is all her fault. her. fault. 

nayeon is tiny, buried in the surely-itchy sheets of the bed. she’s pale, unconscious, and looks terribly out of place. jihyo thinks she’s never seen nayeon look this helpless, without the familiar fire in her eyes she’s grown used to seeing. the room is silent save for the steady beeping of her heartbeat, and it does nothing to relieve the stress that presses down mercilessly on jihyo’s throat. what kind of detective gets goaded into shooting her partner? and if it wasn’t bad enough, the blood loss was enough to make nayeon pass out. until now. what was she supposed to tell dahyun and chaeyoung?

but this is no place for a breakdown. she hasn’t left nayeon’s side since the ambulance - because she has to own up to her mistake, and her naivety. she forcefully swallows the bile in her throat, and starts to analyse the situation. thinks about the moments leading up to her stupidity. it was… instinctual. compelling, even. what the hell. yes, she trusts nayeon, but wow. she’d actually fallen for her  _ i’m invincible  _ bullshit. whatever happened to rational thinking?

her hands find nayeon’s. they’re large, but soft, and strangely warm. it stops her overthinking, filling her mind with thoughts of how she’d actually like to hold nayeon’s hands in a different circumstance. like the not-date-date that they’re supposed to be having right now, but she had to go fuck it up. just like everything else. 

nayeon is many things. friendly, kind. willing to stand up for the weak. a hunger for justice, just like jihyo has. loyalty with sana. but in the middle of everything, jihyo knows there’s something more that’s carefully shrouded in the alcohol and flamboyance. hurt, maybe, because that’s all that’s left out of the equation. 

and then there’s the crazy biblical talk about god and her being the devil. it’s unusual, because nayeon’s not a christian. also not a believer, last dahyun mentioned, but who else would talk about the stories and use them as an everyday analogy? it’s either that, or nayeon’s just a fan -

her phone vibrates. it’s the cold, harsh ring of reality, and jihyo finds herself pulled back into the responsibilities she has to answer to. she lets go of nayeon’s hand. stands up. takes a deep breath. braces herself for the onslaught of questions from the superintendent, and answers the call.

it’s the standard debrief, and jihyo can’t hide her shaky exhale at the end when all he says is for her to come by immediately to discuss something else - the urgency in his voice shoves all her nayeon-related worries to the back of her mind, and jihyo bends.

she hangs up. nayeon is still motionless, and the sight of it all still pulls at jihyo’s heartstrings. but there are things at stake, and she’ll just be gone a short while, she thinks. it’s a friday, and the superintendent never stays late - ten or twenty minutes, at most. she grabs her jacket, moving to press a forehead kiss -

she stops. notices nayeon’s mole, that’s usually hidden underneath her filled-in brows. the make-up has probably faded away from the sweat and grime of the day, and it’s adorable. but it doesn’t help that nayeon is still unmoving, unconscious, and the guilt of it all slams right back into jihyo’s face. 

_ you don’t deserve this,  _ she grits her teeth. then leaves, promptly, without a last look.

the door slams. it’s quiet, for awhile. five minutes, maybe ten. the air in the room is still. but something clears -

nayeon’s eyes snap open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> xylomyloo on twitter cc uwu

**Author's Note:**

> @xylomyloo on twitter and cc <3


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